It rained here last night. A quiet, almost imperceptible rain, the kind one might believe to have dreamt up if not for having smelled its faint fragrance in the air the next morning. It was one of the gentler things I’ve encountered in a long time, certainly more so than the roaring mopeds and the crash of the surf on the Mediterranean. It reminded me more of my baby’s breath as he sleeps: sometimes so still I may lean closer just to ensure it remains constant. Its fragility was sweet and reassuring, a beautiful reminder to stop and listen — that that which is loudest is very rarely the most important.
How restorative it’s been to pause these last few weeks in Europe — to observe and wander and look through my lens just for me. It’s been refreshing to turn inward, to recall how I see the rest of the time, when I’m not on the clock for a client or curating some other editorial endeavor for my business. Just me, my camera, and a lens. Or, sometimes, no camera at all. It’s a delicious and rare treat, simply to soak in the present moment. xo